


Soft Touches

by flawedamythyst



Series: Winterhawk Tumblr ficlets [15]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Popsicles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 07:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18868576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: Kissing and fucking had been easy, but somehow holding hands in a park seems insurmountably difficult.





	Soft Touches

Bucky had thought that kissing Clint for the first time would be the difficult part, but it turned out that he hadn’t needed to push himself to take that step at all. All Clint had had to do was grin at him, rumpled from sparring with his cheeks flushed, and Bucky couldn’t have stopped himself leaning in for a kiss even if he’d wanted to.

Sex with Clint was even easier, not just that first time but every time afterwards. It seemed like they were in orbit around each other, and all it took was a heated look or a flirty comment for them to fall into each other, clinging on and heading for the nearest flat surface.

Even trusting himself with being close to Clint didn’t turn out to be all that hard for Bucky, no matter how wary he’d been since he first got to the Tower of losing it and hurting someone. Clint was just so sure that he didn’t need to be scared that Bucky found it very simple to believe him and stay in bed next to him, limbs tangled around each other until one of them levered themselves away to go to the bathroom for a cloth. They usually ended up sleeping in the same bed and Bucky didn’t worry about his nightmares at all, because he knew Clint understood.

They didn’t ever really touch more than that though. The rush and passion of fucking, then a few, peaceful moments after that, and that was it. Neither of them much liked touching someone else while they slept, and the rest of the time, it felt like nothing had changed between them being friends and them being more.

“Ooh!” said Clint, lighting up with excitement and smacking the back of his hand against Bucky’s chest to get his attention. “Popsicles!” He gestured across the park at a guy selling popsicles from a bicycle trailer, and sped his footsteps up to aim right at him.

Bucky followed after him trying to ignore how the place Clint had just touched him was tingling just from the brush of his fingers. They’d been out for lunch together and he was achingly aware that that had been the first time Clint had actually touched him today. 

Whenever they went out for coffee or lunch, or even for a couple of beers at a bar, they fell right back into the same habits they’d had when they were just hanging out as friends. They chatted and joked, but they didn’t touch and they didn’t kiss, and Bucky had no idea how it had become this huge insurmountable thing to just reach out and take Clint’s hand, but somehow he could never bring himself to just do it.

He’d had boyfriends before the war. Not many of them, and they wouldn’t have called themselves that, but he’d had them. With the way things had been back then, he hadn’t ever been able to hold hands with any of them in public, or any of the other soft little touches that he saw couples engaging in and _itched_ to be able to do with Clint. All they’d been able to do back then was hide their affection beneath rough-housing and the same casual gestures that Bucky had had with Steve and his other friends.

And then there had been the war, and then Hydra, and he hadn’t had any touches that were anything other than pain or necessity for decades.

So now he was here, in a time when he could hold hands with his boyfriend in public and no one could do a damn thing about it, and he couldn’t figure out how to reach out for it.

“Oh man, they have pineapple!” said Clint, once they’d drawn up at the stall. “I am definitely getting one of those. What do you want?”

Bucky scanned the list on the menu. He hadn’t really been intending to have one at all, but Clint’s enthusiasm was infectious. “Cherry,” he said, and Clint nodded, pulling out his wallet as he stepped forward to talk to the guy.

Bucky hung back and watched him, eyeing the relaxed line of his shoulders and the broad grin he gave the guy when he handed the popsicles over. God, he wanted to wrap an arm around those shoulders and kiss that grin off his face, but when he thought about actually taking a step forward to do that, he just froze up.

“Here you are,” said Clint, turning back and holding the popsicle out to Bucky. “Boring old cherry.”

Bucky rolled his eyes as he took. “It’s not boring if it’s your first popsicle in seventy years.”

Clint's eyes went wide at that. “Oh man, now I feel bad I didn't get you one earlier.”

Bucky just shrugged, because there were so many things he hadn't had for seventy years, and Clint had already more than done his part to cut down the list.

They peeled off the wrappers and chucked them in a trash can, then Clint took a long, exaggerated lick of his popsicle that made Bucky stare at him for a breathless moment before he tore himself away and took a lick of his own. 

The sugar-sweet taste of cherry hadn't changed much from what he remembered from his youth. He could remember sharing one with Steve at Coney Island, just before they'd gone on the Cyclone and Steve had thrown up.

The sun was shining down just hot enough to make everything feel pleasant and lazy. Bucky couldn't keep his eyes off how Clint looked bathed in it as they strolled back through the park, one hand holding his popsicle while the other swung next to Bucky’s.

So close. All Bucky had to do was reach out for it.

“Hey, want to go to the range when we get back?” asked Clint, then ran his tongue up the whole length of the popsicle in a way that gave Bucky a brief, intense flashback to the blowjobs they'd exchanged in the gym showers two days ago.

“Yeah, not all that sure I'm gonna be able to concentrate on shooting after watching you eat that,” he managed.

Clint blinked as if he'd had no idea just how suggestive he was being, then beamed at Bucky and proceeded to _deepthroat the fucking thing_ , sucking it all the way down and then pulling it back out of his mouth with a slurp and a pop.

Bucky made an indescribable noise of lust and had to clear his throat to cover it, focusing on his own popsicle as hard as he could.

“Yeah, okay,” said Clint. “Not the range, my bedroom.”

He sent Bucky a heat-filled look that Bucky couldn't help returning with a smirk.

“I'd say we could go to the range after, but I reckon we're both gonna be too worn out for that,” said Bucky.

Clint laughed, bright and clear. “Yeah, good point,” he agreed. “Guess we'll just have to stay in bed to recover.” He glanced away as a dog went past with its owner. “We can watch a movie and cuddle,” he added, still distracted by following the dog with his eyes. “If you want,” he added, with a diffident note in his voice.

Fuck.

Bucky had fucked up really badly if Clint didn't know that was exactly what he wanted, whenever he could get it.

“That sounds pretty much perfect,” he said, thinking about having Clint in his arms for the length of a movie, getting to hold him and pet him and maybe stroke his hair. All the soft kinds of touches that Bucky wanted so badly.

“Yeah?” said Clint, turning to give Bucky a weirdly shy smile for a guy who just went down on a popsicle in Central Park.

“Oh yeah,” agreed Bucky, and now he knew he needed to reassure Clint that he wanted this, it was easy to reach out and take his hand, tangling their fingers together and holding on.

Clint's skin was warm and a little sweaty against his, and it felt perfect. Clint's smile grew into a grin and Bucky returned it, floating on happiness as a jogger went past, ignoring them completely.

It was everything he'd ever wanted.


End file.
